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HOW TO PAY THE RENT. 
" Mercy ! — I givo in — I submit — take all }'ou waut 1 



THE MINOR DRAMA 

No. III. 



HOW TO PAY THE KENT. 

21 Saxct 



IN ONE ACT. 



BY TYRONE POWER 



WITH THE STAGE BUSINESS, CAST OF CHARACTERS, 
COSTUMES, RELATIVE POSITIONS, ETC. 



NEW YORK: 
WILLIAM TAYLOR & CO., No. 2 ASTOR HOUSE, 

AND JARVIS BUILDINGS, BALTIMORE. 
1847, 



EDITORIAL INTRODUCTION. 

This farce was originally produced at the Haymarket The- 
atre in April, 1840. It fully established itself, the first night, as 
one of the merriest things going ; and it says not a little for its 
merits, that notwithstanding the united attractions of the author- 
ship and acting of the lamented Power, which attended its first 
representation, it still retains its place on the stage as one of the 
most mirth-provoking after-pieces. Power, as Morgan Rattler^ 
with his truckle bed for furniture and a rope line for wardrobe, 
was always gloriously at home in the piece, and acted with w^on- 
derful effect upon the risibilities of his audience, Mr. Collins is 
also very successful in the part. It is one of his best; and while 
he plays it with uniform good taste, there is no lack of spirit in 
his delineation. Indeed, the applause he has received in enact- 
ing this creation of Power himself, shows that the mantle of that 
thorough type of Erin is recognised as having fallen upon wor- 
thy shoulders. 

With regard to the morale of the Irishman's peculiar mode of 
paying the rent, we must confess it is not a little dubious ; al- 
though, in the particular instance brought before us in the re- 
presentation, the principle is divested of its worst feature, by 
being made the instrument of rescuing a poor widow from the 
gripe of a merciless landlord. In this respect it will compare 
quite favourably with but too many instances of every-day oc- 
currence, in which the end, as well as the means, is alike selfish 
and objectionable. 

This piece is quite a favourite at the Park and Olympic the- 
atres, where it is frequently performed, Mr. Nickinson ably sus- 
taining the part of Morgan Rattler at the latter establishment. 



CAST OF CHARACTERS. 

Haymarket, 1840. Park, 1847. Olympic, 1846. 

Morgan Rattler .... Mr. Power. Mr. Collins. Mr. Nickinson. 

Miller '" Strickland. " A.Andrews. " Everafd. 

Swell Billy " Caulfield. " Pearson. " Blacker. 

Blowhard " Gouph. " Gallot. '* Clark. 

Shooter " Clark. '« Povey. " Barnet. 

Star the Glaze " Green. " Sprague. 

Pay the Reckoning' . " Matthews. " B. Roberts. 

Snuffy " Milot. 

Porter " Heath. " J.Roberts. 

Afrs. CoTWcierecc... Mrs. Clifford. Mrs. Vernon. Mrs. Hardwick. 

Kitty Mrs. Matthews. " Knight. Miss Clarke. 

Betty Miss Grove. " Burrows. Mrs. Everard. 

Time of Representation, One Hour. 



COSTUMES. 

RATTLER.— Brown or black frock coat, plaid trowsers, and red neckerchieC 
MILLER. — Old-fashioned brown coat and trowsers, with long queue. 
SWELL BILLY.— White over-coat, flashy dress coat and waistcoat, dark trowsersi 
white gloves, &c. 

BLOWHARD. — Officer's blue undress frock, white pantaloons, and Hessian boots. 

SHOOTER.— Dark Mackintosh, brown frock coat, drab trowsers, &c. 

STAR THE GLAZE.— Brown over-coat, striped waistcoat, white trowsers, &c. 

MRS. CONSCIENCE.— Dark silk dress, white apron, and muslin cap. 

KITTY.— Light muslin dress, apron, &c. 

BETTY.— Drab dress suitable for a maid-of-ail-work. 



EXITS AND ENTRANCES. 
R. means Right; L. Left; R. D. Right Door; L. D. Left Door; 
S. E. Second Entrance; U. B. Upper Entrance; M. D. Middle Door. 

RELATIVE POSITIONS. 
B.., mediae Right; L., Left ; C, Centre ; E. C. Right of Centre; 
L. C, Left of Centre. 

N.B. Passages marked Kitk Inverted Commas, are usually omitted in thb- 
representation. 



HOW TO PAY THE RENT. 



ACT I 



ScEN-E I. — An empty room in Cliamhers — ivindows at side, 
door in f., another, r. 

Enter Miller and Mrs. Conscience, c. 

Mrs. C. I tell you, Mr. Miller, it's too much money. 

Mil. Pooh ! stuff! I tell you, it's not money enough. 
Mrs. C. Not for you, I know — you'd let a back cellar 
to a poor laundress for the rent of the Royal Exchange if 
you could, and distrain her mangle for the first week's ar- 
rears. 

Mil. Consider the enormous outlay in papering, in 
painting, gilding, and glazing. Tax-gatherers incessant 
and inieatiable, of all denominations, with damned long 
fingers, forever fiddling about one's pockets ; besides in- 
numerable acts of private munificence that no one ever 
knows of except myself 

Mrs. C. I believe that your private charity is quite un- 
known. Moral character, truly — it's fine talking, but if 
everybody was told what somebody knows of — 

Mil. Pish ! hold your silly tongue. — [^siVZe.] She knows 
I'm in her power, though it's a nuisance that I must bear 
with, I know. 

Mrs.C. No need of that, Mr. Miller; I'm not too old 
to get a place, and with a ttoenty-two years' character fron:. 
so moral a man as Churchwarden Miller. 

Mil. Pish ! be silent ; you know well enough I'd never 
let you leave my service. 

Mrs. C. I know you wont — and for no love of nie either; 
you know I've a tongue. 

Mil. I know you have. 



6 HOW TO PAY THE T.ENT. [Act I. 

Mrs, C. Ay, and you fear thai I might use it. 

Mil. No, no, I don't — I know you better — but be si- 
lent ; walls have ears and echoes, don't trust them ; when 
you've a secret to talk about, go into the middle of a five- 
acre field, and don't speak above a breath then, unless the 
orass has been newly cut. You're a good woman, and a 
good chamber-keeper — but only not florid enough in style, 
a little dull in description, too matter-of-fact to fill your 
empty rooms fast enough — I'll send you the Morning Post 
for an hour, once a week — read the auctioneers' advertise- 
ments — there's a study ! Putfingr elevated to poetry, and 
poetry rendered at last practically useful. 

3Irs. C. I'd let the chambers fast enough, without either 
lying or flummery, if you'd let me put a low rent on them. 
But to ask forty pounds a-year for a room like this ! 

Mil. And why not, if I can get it, eh 1 Mind your door 
kays, and give me advice when I ask it. 

Mrs. C. I will — and not before you want it ; and now, 
before you g^o into the city, what's to be done about poor 
Mrs. Barry — this is half-quarter day, she isn't suited, but 
has got a friend to take her in, and, to accommodate you, 
she is ready to go. 

Mil. Ah, ah ! she's a decent woman — I ex{>ected she 
would, so I told Saunders and Pop that they might fetch 
in his Excellency Don Pillard de Publico's furniture this 
afternoon — I am impatient to have the Polynesian Envoy 
Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary a lodger un- 
der this roof- Mrs. Bany is a well-disposed woman. 

3/r*. C. That she is, and a very long time your tenant. 

Mi/. A little too long — owes me a w/tole half, and the 
last half-quarter up to this day. 

Mrs. C. Lookye, Mr. Miller — excuse my freedom, but 
are you quite sure about the whole half] 

Mil. Sure ! — eh ! what do you mean ? 

Mrs. C. Mrs. Barry says her late husband must surely 
have paid you as regularly as usual. 

Mil. Oh, did he ? has she any receipt to prove it 1 

Mrs. C. No; poor Mr. Barry was ever careless about 
such matters. It's rather odd, I must say, often as you came 
here, you never said anjthing about the half-quarter due, 
till poor Mr. Barry was defunct ; but however, youTl not 
lay hands on the poor sorrowful soul — you'll let her go ? 



Scene I.] HOW TO PAY THE RENT. 7 

Mil. Do you think me a New Zealand cannibal ? Tell 
her, with my best compliments, to be sure and leare by 
four o'clock. 

Mrs. C. And her furniture — what am I to say about 
that? 

Mil. Tell her, with my compliments, we'll take the 
greatest care of it — if she has any way within a week or 
two of paying the rent — 

Mrs. C. If not, you'll get your Friend Squeeze to ap- 
praise it — Mr. Miller, have a little compassion ! 

Mil. So I have — only you've too much sensibility for a 
lodging keeper. 

Mrs. C. And you've too hard a heart for a Newgate 
turnkey. Ugh ! I can't look at you with patience, you 
smooth spoken serpent, you cruel old crocodile. [Exit, c. 

Mil. What does not my respect for public morality 
compel me to put up with from this hag 1 If she were 
but dumb, I'd get her a snug' place in Marylebone work- 
house. 

Kitty 2^^shes open door at r., and j^eeps on — ajier a mo- 
mcjit's 2^ause, she advances, r. 

If the widow's goods leave a very profitable balance, I'll 
make her a present of a sovereign or two ; her friends 
will be sure to get up a subscription — my name for o:.c 
or twc Bowereigns will look liberal. 

[Kitty taps him on the shoulder. 

Kit. So it will. Don't be frightened, I wont tell what 
I overheard you say. 

Mil. Ah ! you little wicked — ha ! ha ! ha ! and what 
did you overhear, eh, you rogue in petticoats ? 

Kit. Why, you were saying how well your name w^ould 
look put down for five pounds, to head a subscription for 
my poor mistress. 

Mil. [Aside.] How like the little baggage is to her 
aunt ! — Heigho ! you know I'd do anything in my power 
for the u-idow of poor Barry. 

Kit. That's just what I've often told my mistress ; don't 
be afraid, madam, says I ; Mr. Miller's not half so hard- 
hearted as he looks — and you're not, Mr. Miller, are you? 

Mil. You've the softest peach-like cheek, Kitty — 

Kit. Yes, I know — but don't keep yours so close to it. 



8 HOW TO PAY THE RENT. [Act 2. 

it's bad for your cough — then I'll tell my mistress you're 
coming to see her, for she's waiting to go out. 

Mil. Stop, stop, baggage — you're like an eel. [Mrs. Con- 
icience appears at the back, as Miller pulls Kitty bach.} To 
have and to hold — zooks, you've put me in such a flurry 
to catch you — heh ! heh ! 

Kit. You'll surely bring on your cough, if you put your- 
self in a flurry, and so let me go. Oh ! see, se — 

[Sees Mrs. Conscience, laughs, and runs off, R., as Mrs. 
C, severally regarding Miller and Kitty, advances 
to her situation. 

Mrs. C. jNIr. Miller ! what have I seen, Mr. Miller — my 
head's on fire. 

Mil. [Asidc^ I should like to poke it into the water-butt 
to extinguish it. 

Mrs. C. Isn't it enough to have seduced the aunt, but 
you must use your serpent-like fascinations to rob the 
niece of her virtue ? Mr. Miller, do you recollect what 
you were twenty-nine years ago, and when you were seiT- 
ing old Pat Wiggins, in Thomas street, Dublin 1 

Mil. 1 do — I was a smart handsome young fellow, jour- 
neyman candle-maker to the old Irish soap-boiler, wdth 
pockets as full of nothing as your silly head. 

Mrs. C. And were you not the deluder and deserter 
of poor Betsy Bustle, the bonnet-maker, of Bridget-alley. 

Mil. Bah ! how could I help it — all the force of circum- 
stances ; didn't old Pat Wiggins die, because, as he said, 
the doctor made him put too much water in his whiskey — 
could I account for that ] After I'd married my master's 
widow, would I have acted like a moral character to have 
consorted with a concubine ? — Could I control fate ] — 
did I ask Betsy to die ? and when she did, didn't I act in 
the most considerate manner by the baby-boy she left be- 
hind ; poor loose woman, didn't I pay you nobly for its 
keep for nearly eighteen months 1 

Mrs. C. Five shillings a-week ! and when you were 
leaving Dublin for London, who was it that bribed me to 
pop the beauteous baby into the Foundling-basket, swear- 
ing that one day you'd send over for it. 

Mil. Well, and when, twelve years after, I sent all the 
particulars, and made inquiry, didn't I get for answer, thai 
the little vagrant had run away from a respectable tailor, 



Scene I.] HOW TO PAY THE KENT. 9 

at nine years old — a scamp — whose fault was that 1 and 
why am I to be eternally reproached for a little slip, which 
would not be regarded by any but a man of delicate feel- 
ings, anxious to keep his moral character fair in the world's 
eye ? 

Mrs. C. I often told you what evil would come of it. 

Mil, You did very often, and a plaguy long time it has 
Deen coming — since then my course has been always up 
the ladder. 

Mrs. C. Take care it don't end in a drop from one. It's 
a long lane has no turn. 

Mil. Croaker ! Just look back — first, my old wife died ; 
then I came over to London, bought a partnership in the 
city, a good lively business — soon after, my partner died, 
childless, leaving me sole executor; since, I've built houses, 
then created chambers, filled office in the vestry with ho- 
nour, and now look upwards to the common council, on 
the Radical Moral Universal Reform interest ; and if you 
don't blab on me — Hush ! 

Ejiter Kitty, r. 

Well, smiler ! 

Kit. My mistress is waiting to see you, sir ; her furni- 
ture is mostly packed, and all ready to move. 

Bin. Good girl; then, Mrs. Conscience, [C?'osses, c.J 
tell the broker's man to move all the furniture carefully 
into the garret, and take special care of it till Mrs. Barry 
can send for it. 

Kit. (l.) Then you'll keep her goods — and mean time, 
her poor dear children must sleep on the floor 1 

Mil. Poor innocents, I hope not — though a soft bed is 
anything but wholesome for children — it checks the diges- 
tion and stints their growth — ha ! ha ! rogue in petticoats, 
I'll go up stairs and comfort the dear lady. [Exit, r. 

Kit. Take care I'm not behind your back as you're com- 
ing down, for if I am, I'll certainly push you to the bot- 
tom, you miserly, miserable old sinner. 

Mrs. C. This is sad doings, my dear ; but do you know 
of no friend of Mr. Barry, tt) whose kindness you might 
appeal for his widow ] 

Kit. Why, I have an inkling of hope — there is a coun- 
tryman of Mr. Barry's, for six or seven years was a sort of 



10 HOW TO PAY THE KENT. [ Act I. 

pupil of his ; this very man, Mr. "Rattler, I met yesterday, 
and knew again ; he seemed sadly hurt to hear of poor 
Mrs. Barry's condition and trouble, and said he should 
have great pleasure in kicking old Miller immediately; 
he lodges only two doors off, at old Fustian's — I'll go and 
speak to him again. 

Mrs. C. Go, my child, and pray for poverty and happi- 
ness, for surely, over- much money always brings misery for 
a bedfellow. 

Kit. I don't know what over-much money may bring, 
but in these days, without a little lucre, a poor girl is not 
likely to get bed or bedfellow. 

Mrs. C. I don't know how it is, but when Morgan Mil- 
ler was a good-looking journeyman soap-boiler, poor and 
pennyless, he was, I think, a better-hearted, and I'm sure 
was a lighter-hearted man. Poor Betsy's orphan ! he'll 
never ;.irn up, I dare say, though I tied a little tablet of 
his liiother's about his neck, when I left him in the basket. 
Ah ! often in the dead of night I hear the flutter of wings, 
and see that little cherub's face smiling over the tester, 
whilst a loud voice shouts in my ear — 

Raf. \ Without, beloio, c] Judy, you devil, where are 
you 'i Lulloa ! [Mrs. C. screams. 

Enter Old Miller, as from above, hastily, r. 

Mil. Go down and answer — 

Mrs. C. Go down and answer ! You'll have to answer 
and go down, you sinner ! Oh, dear, I'm a going to faint 
— I know I am — hold me up ! [Seizing Mm. 

Mil. Go away, woman; for shame — go, go. 

[S7ie still clings to Miller. 

Enter Rattler, singing, c. 

Rat. "Go to the devil and shake," &c. — Ah ! here's my 
tatterer ! So-ho ! what, a rendezvous ! I'm in the way, 
perhaps — spoil sport. [Mrs. C. crosses to l. 

Sings — " It was a place, a place so lonely, 
A place foi' love and lovers only." 

Beg pardon : if I'm de trop, say so, I'm off*— call again 

when you're less interestingly occupied. 

Mrs. C. Why, dear me, sir, you don't suppose — 

Mil. Sir, this is a respectable house, and I'm a moraJ 

man : you don't imagine, sir- — 



^ 



Scene I.] HOW TO PAY THE RENT. 11 

Rat. Pardon me — I did — I did imagine, but I was out 
for once, I find. I wronged you, and I ask pardon. The 
lady's age is a guarantee for her respectability. I reve- 
rence antiquity too much to injure it even in idea ; but 
really, when I came in, the place — your perilous proximity 
to a petticoat ! No man, sir, is more moral than myself 
when away from temptation ; but you know what our first 
of moralists says, — proximity, importunity, and opportu 
nity, are sometimes an over-match for poor humanity. 

Sings — " When away from the girls, 
I'm a saint, sure, my dear ; 
But the saint he draws off 
When the lassies draw near." 

Once more, your pardon, and to business : are you, ma- 
dam, the keeper of these chambers ? 

Mrs. C. Oh, dear, I'm so flurried ! — Y-e-s, sir. 

Rat. Exactly : may I ask what apartments are to let, 
with instant possession ] 

Mil. This very charming room where we now are is to 
let, sir. 

Rat. Oh ! who's your fat friend ] 

Mrs. C. [S7niling.] My master, sir. 

Rat. Master — oh, I comprehend. Anglice, husband — 
7/07/, then, sir, have the felicity to share this lady's nuptial 
couch — sir, I congratulate you. 

Mil. Poll ! she's my servant, sir. 

Mrs. C. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Rat. You are not his wife % then, madam, do you accept 
my congratulations, whilst on the gentleman I bestow my 
pity. 

Mrs. C. Ha ! ha ! Imshand, indeed ! Well, what odd 
folks go to make up a world. \Crosses to c] Mind, don't 
let him slip, he'll pay 40/. a-year as sure as my name is 
Conscience, and yours is not — husband, truly ! Ha ! ha ! 
ha ! Oh, bless your merry face — wife, indeed — ha ! ha ! 
ha ! \Exit, c. 

Mil. An old fool — ha! ha! ha! [STiarling. 

Rat. Ha ! ha ! ha ! Excuse me, sir, but that old lady's 
laugh is infectious, cheering to herself, and kindling mirth 
in all that catch the sound. Sir, I love a hearty laugh — 
it's a sure sign of a good heart and a light conscience. 
E.\cuKe me, sir, but do you ever laugh ] [Eyeing him.\ 



12 HOW TO PA\ THE RENT. [Act I 

MU. Sir ! ■ 

Rat, [l.] Never saw a finer head — would make a glo- 
rious model [aside] for the knocker to a sponging-house. 

Mil. (r.) Pray, sir, be covered — this room's unfurnish- 
ed, and has a cold air. 

Rat. You're right, sir — I'll oblige you. You must know 
Fm rather singular in my ideas of furnishing. 

Mil. Like to have enough, I dare say, sir ] 

Rat. [Aside ^ Just enough, and none to spare. — You're 
right, sir, I do like enough, indeed, more than enough for 
my own wants. 

Mil. I understand, sir — you have the good fortune to 
be a married man. 

Rat. No, sir — I have the good fortune not to be a mar- 
ried man. 

Mil. Exactly so : this is a charming location for a ba- 
chelor — small room to the left, quite large enough to sleep 
in. 

Rat. Can't sleep in a small room — when I'm abed, I 
require air and exercise. 

Mil. I see. Well, if your bed doesn't take up much 
space — 

Rat. It does not, I assure you. But have you no other 
rooms ] only these '? 

Mil. The whole suite below — six on one floor. 

Rat. Just my number — I'll take the floor. 

Mil. But, unluckily, it's already occupied. 

Rat. Then I wont take it — that's settled. What's the 
rent of this cock-loft % 

Mil. The quietest part of the house. 

Rat. Tranquillity is essential to my temperament. 

Mil. How lucky ! By eight o'clock you may hear a 
mouse stir on that stair. 

Rat. I'll engage you may a good many, and see them 
too — a serious tax on Cheshire — but the rent, that's the 
rubl 

Mil. Well, sir, since you're single — for I object to chil- 
dren — 

Rat. I don't wonder at it, if they always cry as loud as 
when I came up stairs : I heard sixteen shrill trebles 
screamJng a fall chorus. 

Mil. Ahem ! hem ! yes, I know, but all born on the 



Scene 1.] HOW TO PAY THE RENT. 13 

premises ; in that case, you know, sir, the landlord can't 
be held responsible. 

Bat. I don't know that — at all events, if I ever marry 
I quit these premises. But for the last and third time, the 
rent % 

Mil. Didn't I tell you — dear me, sir, 20/. the quarter. 

licit. 201. a quarter ? — I see, that is 601. a year — the 
lodging's mine, say no more, there's my hat. 

Mil. I beg pardon, but you've made a slight mistake 
in addition — 201. per quarter is 80/. per annum. 

Rat. Then I take down my hat, Miller : but stay — af- 
ter all, what's the odds ] 

Mil. Only 201. a-year: it will make very little difference 
to a man like you at the year's end, I dare say, sir. 

Rat. Well, that's true : as you say, it will make mighty 
little difference to me at the year's end, so I'll let my hat 
stay, since it is hung up. 

Mil. I could have let it to a foreign ambassador, who 
has taken the floor above, but I'd rather take less money 
from a countryman. 

Rat. A what ! are you an Irishman 1 

Mil. No, sir. 

Rat. Thank Heaven ! | Crosses to r.J 

Mil. For what? 

Rat. Nothing — I never saw a face I more admired to 
look upon — a natural curiosity ! An open brow, clear 
hazel eye, an up look, liberal lip, round dimpled chin, and 
a head set on and shaped like Antinous — in fact, there's 
an all-overishness about the tout cnseinble of your figure 
and physiognomy, that would at one glance reconcile the 
moodiest misanthrope to the humanity he had renounced 
for ever. 

Mil. [Aside.] 401. over-dear — ha ! ha ! — What name 
may I — 

Rat. Who, me 1 — oh, name 1 — Rattler — Rattler — Mor- 
gan Rattler. 

Mil. M. Rattler, Esq. ; and where can I call for the re- 
ference of — 

Rat. Oh, ay ! I see — the reference ! to be sure — next 
door but two to the post-office : you know old Thingamy, 
the draper ? 

B 



14 HOW TO PAY THE RENT. [ Act I. 

Mil. What, Fustian's ? oh, I know him — and might I 
ask Mr. Rattler's profession ? 

Rat. Portrait-painter, artist — but I've not done much 
lately ; I intend, however, again zealously to devote my- 
self to pencil and j^alette. 

Mil. Ah, ah ! a painter ! 1 thought I — 

Rat. Did you, though ! Well, you wer'nt out for once 
in your life — you saw me struck with your physiognomy. 
I must get you to give me a sitting for an antique groupe 
I'm about to commence : you've a glorious expression for 
Silenus. 

Mil. Ah ! it's a tolerably profitable calling — I — 

Rat. Calling ! profitable ! calling what ] is it oysters, 
or new potatoes, you mean to be " calling" ] Painting, 
sir, is an art ! — an art, one of the most inspiring that ever 
lifted the soul or lighted the eye of genius — what glorious 
recollections of the mighty dead do we not owe to the 
pencil, more faithful than the pen ! Of what millions, yet 
unborn, may not the painter claim gratitude for the trans- 
mission to their admiration of the worthies of his time ; 
endowed, by the cunning of the skilful painter's hand, 
with all but immortality, the patriot, the hero, the lawyer, 
the poet, the player, will from the undying canvas still sti- 
mulate our children, with a living look, to emulate their 
fame, speaking hope to the faltering and shame to the de- 
generate. [Cros^ws to L. 

Mil. I love the art myself — I had a painter tenant with 
me for four or five years : his name was Barry — mayhap 
yoy know him ] 

Rat. Know him! poor Barry — excellent well 1 I knew 
him as intimately as 1 hope to make you know me before 
we part. 

Mil. That door opens to Mrs. Bariy's rooms — I may as 
well draw the bolt. [Bolts r. d.] I'm going to get her out 
to-day. 

Rat. Get her out ! — oh, yes ! 

Mil. They were her children you heard squalling so, — 
nasty little beasts. 

Rat. \ Aside] I must either get into the open air to cool 
my blood, or create space here by tossing my fat friend 
out of the window. Poor Barry ! But, psha ! — Mr. Mil- 
ler, I shall have my valuable furniture brought here im- 



Scene I.J HOW TC PAY THE RENT. 15 

mediately, so do you make the most of your time in pre- 
paration — as a matter of course you'll call on Mr. Fustian 
— but I'll answer for his satisfying you on any point rela- 
tive to his lodger. 

Mil. Why, as a matter of form, you know — though in 
point of fact, I dare say, in this case I should be just as 
well off without any reference. 

Rat. In point of fact, in this case you were never more 
correct in your life — as a matter of form, you may be 
right ; but for any additional advantage you'll reap from 
the inquiry, you might just as well spare your breath and 
save your shoes. 

Enter Mrs. Conscience, c. 

Oh, here's my old lady — do me the favour to see this room 
nicely dusted, cleanly swept, fire lighted, and windows 
opened — and here, give this half-crown to your Cinderella 
below stairs, with my service to her dust-pan. 

Mrs. C. With your what, sir % 

Rat. My compliments to her coal-scuttle. [Exit, c. 

Mrs. C. Ha, ha ! bless your merry face. 

Mil. Now, Mistress Conscience, for the future, when 
there's a tenant to be talked over, send to me. Oh ! 40/. 
a-year's too much — you'll never let the room and closet — 
ha! ha! go, comb your cat and answer the bell. 

Mrs. C. Well, but surely you didn't ask that nice young 
man 40Z. a-year 1 

Mil. You're right, 1 didn't : I asked him 80/. — ha ! ha ! 
ha ! that was all. 

Mrs. C. Mercy on us, where do you expect to go to ? 

Mil. Where 1 why, where rents are high, taxes low, and 
tenants plenty — ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Mrs. C. 801. a-year ! — he never means to pay it. 

Mil. May be not, but his furniture will. I'm going to 
old Fustian's for his character — but, if his things come, 
let the furniture into the yard — I'll see witli a glance what 
like his furniture is — I'll be on the watch, and here as soon 
as him with the agreement all ready — quarterly payment 
— six months' notice — I see he's a soft-headed, addle-pated 
poor devil, so we'll keep his pockets light. Oh, it's a ruin- 
ous thing in London for a young man to have too much 
money to spend ; it leads him into every sort of peril, mo- 



16 HOW TO PAY THE KENT. [AcT I 

ral and physical — that would be a pity — eh ! eh ! eh ! 40Z 
overmuch — 80Z. not ! eh! eh! who laughs now"? eh! eh! 
eh ! [Exit, c. 

Mrs. C. Ha! ha! ha! poor silly gripe-all; there he 
goes, as pleased with his roguery as my cat with a -ball o/ 
worsted. Now, I'll set Betsy to dust over this room, an(? 
open the windows, and — dear me, there's somebody try 
ing Mrs. Barry's door — who's there ] 

Rattler. [Inside, r.] It's me, you devil — hold down youi 
head, I'll blow you a kiss through the key-hole. 

Mrs. C. Why, 'tis the new lodger — how did he get in 
there ? stop — I'll draw the bolt. There — why, mercy on 
me, do you know Mr. Rattler, Kitty 1 

Enter Rattler and Kitty, r. s. e. 

Rat. She does know Mr. Rattler, my mother of the 
Graces — and Mr. Rattler knows her, since she was the 
height of a pound brush, and designs to know a good deal 
more of her yet ; taking advantage of Mrs. Barry's ab- 
sence, I've been casting an eye over the family, which, 
for the future, I here adopt as my own, at least, till they 
tind another and a better father. 

Kit. I'd not desire to have a better father, for my part. 

Rat. Is it for your own children you mean, gipsy I 
wouldn't you be proud of a dozen or two little Rattlers ? 

Kit. Mercy on me, what things you do say ! but I must 
see to the children, and get all ready for this rare scheme 
of yours — I'm sure no good will come of it. [Exit, c. 

Mrs. C. Pray, did you know Mr. Barry a long time, 
sir] 

Rat. Long enough to know his worth, but too short a 
time to prove my gratitude. 

Mrs. C. Ay, you must have met him before he came 
over to England, perhaps ] 

Rat. I'll tell you where we met — it was in Sackville 
street ; he met me with a pair of black eyes, a bursting 
heart, and a bleeding nose, after a hard-fought battle with 
a red-headed cad, on whose beat I had presumed to hold 
an officer's horse — my near-won victory was about to be 
revenged by the whole of my antagonist's faction, who'd 
have pummeled me to death, as an invader of the soil, 
only Mr. Barry came to the rescue— he questioned me, 



Scene I.J HOW TO PAY THE RENT. 17 

and finding me friendless and forlorn, he took mc home 
— he had no children then, his young wife received me, fos- 
tered me, fed me — I felt stupefied at first, and bewildered, 
but in a few days a new world broke in upon me — there I 
was clothed, comforted, and caressed — yes, caressed — 
for the first time in my life, I received a pressure of kind 
arms, and felt a woman's warm bosom beating against 
mine ; those caresses aroused feelings as yet unborn with- 
in my heart, love and gratitude. I thank heaven they are 
here still, after years of chance and change, as warm and 
glowing to my benefactress as when first awakened by her 
sweet voice of pity within the chilled heart of the outcast 
wandering orphan. 

Mrs. C. Then bless your warm heart, it does one good 
to hear thee — 1 could find in my heart to kiss thee, I could. 

Rat. And why the devil don't you — never check a ge- 
nerous impulse. \They embrace. 

Mrs. C. And so poor Mr. Barry took care of thee, did 
he'? 

Rat. He did, my old lady — taught me his noble art ; for 
eight years I was his pupil, companion, and friend, till the 
failure of a bank swallowed up his means, and he resolved 
to quit Ireland. Just before this event he had advised me 
to travel, and furnished me with means ; I went to Italy, 
and having lost sight of my master, soon got into mischief, 
dabbled in politics — lured by that most comprehensive 
word *' Liberty," was a prisoner in an Austrian fortress, 
escaped and fled to Turkey — since then I have been a pil- 
grim at Jerusalem, a doctor in Egypt, a soldier in Spain, 
an idler in Italy, and, I'm afraid, a vagabond in all places 
— but 1 have now an object in life, and I hencefortli devote 
myself to it — the art which my dead master taught me, 
shall cherish his children, and cheer the heart of his wi- 
dow. 

Mrs. C. But if you've got to vv^ork for your bread, don't 
you think, now, you are going to pay too much rent here, 
young man 1 

Raf. Not a ha'porth ; I'm not going to pay any rent at 
all — I have been in London two years, and for the last 
year and a half haven't paid a farthing; pay rent, indeed ! 
— if I hadn't scorned to be illiberal, I might generally have 
received a handsome premium for leaving my lodgings, 



18 HOW TO PAY THE RENT. [Act I. 

besides a receipt in full for all demands whilst I remained 
in them. 

Mrs. C. What, and sent your furniture 1 

Rat. And my furniture — what ! do you think I sneak 
out after a stout defence ; no, I always conclude honoura- 
ble terms, and march out with bag and luggage, head 
erect, and colours flying — so shall Mrs. Barry, or my 
name's not Rattler. 

Mrs. C. Ah, you don't know Mr. Miller! 

Rat. No — and Mr. INIiller doesn't know me, but he shall 
before many minutes are over his head. 

Enter Kitty, m haste, c. 

Kit. There's a large waggon-load of furniture just com- 
ing into the yard, and Mr. Miller coming up stairs. 

Rat. All right — vanish, Kitty, and have everything rea- 
dy ; now, old lady, do you run down and desire my fur- 
niture to be brought up here off that waggon — and hark 
ye — if a few gentlemen ask for me, show them up here, 

Mrs. C. Poor young man, he's brought his furniture to 
a fine market. [Exit, c. 

Ejiier Miller, c. 

Mil. What, you're here, eh ] my dear sir, I'm delighted 
to see you here, hope you'll find everything quite to your 
satisfaction. 

Rat. The same to you, old gentleman — all right at No. 
10, eh ] 

]\bl. Never was more satisfied — I only wonder Mr. Fus- 
tian let you go at all. 

Rat. Why, I do believe, entrcs nous, if I'd have stayed 
a year longer, he'd have kept me for nothing. 

Mil. I believe it — never heard a man speak more highly 
of a lodger. I saw a waggon coming in just after me — 
furniture ] 

Rat. I know, mine's there ; I'll have it up. 

Mil. There's a little agreement, if you please to sign it 
— six months' notice, payment quarterly, my usual plan ; 
here's pen and ink — I always carry it about me, and as 
my carriage is now waiting to take me to the city, you'll 
excuse my hurry — hope no offence ? 

Rat. None in nature. [Signs.} There ! 



Scene I.] HOW TO PAY THE RENT. 19 

Mil. [Signs.] And there — that's all I shall want of you 
just now, JMr, Rattler. 

Raf. That's quite right— [Aside.] because that's all you're 
likely to get, I can tell you, either now or till doomsday 
— oh, here's my furniture ! 

Enter Porter and Betty, with a truckle-hed, common mat- 
trass tied up in hedclothes, a chair reversed, containing 
basin, jug, razor, comb, brush, and little mug, c. — Betsy 
makes the bed, ^r. 

That's all right, put down the furniture — bed in right hand 
corner, stool there for the ould lady — we'll have it all 
straight as a cow's hind leg in a twinkling ; and now, al- 
low me to do the honours of my new apartment. Betty ! 
the chair — Mr. Miller will you do me the honour to sit 
down on it. [Bands chair. 

Mil. Eh, eh! I see you love a joke, Mr, Rattler, eh! 

Rat. No man living better — I hope you can take one — 
that's the thing, unroll the bed, Betty, and then I've only 
to tumble in — 

Bet. Yes, Mr. Rattler. 

Mil. You don't mean to say you sleep on that flock mat- 
trass % 

Rat. On that mattrass, sir, I seek my soft repose — 
watched over by the Muses, and awakened by the Graces. 
Flock ! what do you mean by flock ] hair, by my beard ! 
I've manipulated ever knot on its corrugated surface, and 
it contains hair enough to compose a wig for the Lord 
Chancellor. Now, my fine fellow, there's something to 
drink — take this fourpenny bit, the curse of the cads; 
don't make a beast of yourself, and be ready for the job 
I hinted at — you know — have you ordered the music ? 

Porter. Yes, sir ; two orns and a liorgan. [Exit, c. 

Rat. You're a man ! Come here, Betty ! Betty, here's 
two shillings ; bring me three pound of long eights, and 
ask the chandler to cut them in two. 

Bet. Yes, Mr. Rattler. 

Mil. Long eights ! 

Rat. That's the size. Your shop's in the city, or I'd 
patronise you. I have a little soiree this evening — a sort 
of house warming. Light, joy-giving light, is the parent 
of the dance, of mirth and music, love and wine. 



20 HOW TO PAY THE RENT. [Act \ 

Mil. Candles ! what, fats for a party 1 

Rat. Muttons ! honest muttons — can't stand wax, un- 
less you'll stand tic — in that case, send me in a box, I'll 
give you a liberal order. 

Mil. But what have you to put lights in ] I see nothing. 

Hat. Eh? right, nothing — that doesn't matter — stick 
them against the walls, at equal distances ; your muttons 
have an adhesive quality, which renders them self-sustain- 
able — but stop, where shall I place my wardrobe 1 

Mil. Your wardrobe ! where is it 1 

Rat. In my pocket. [Pulls out a cord\ Here you are. 

\Crosses, l. 

Mil. Wardrobe ! why, that's a piece of threepenny 
cord ! — dear me ! 

Rat. You're a wizard — you've guessed it — 'tis, as you'll 
see, both one and the other — I like an open wardrobe, it 
preserves one's clothes from moth or mildew, and is easily 
got at, \D rives nails. 

Mil. Hold! murder! murder! Driving tenpenny nails 
into the wall ! 

Rat. Right again ; but what ails you — one would think 
I was driving tenpenny nails into you, by the noise you 
make — all right. There, like that 1 — my own invention, 
combining eloquence of outline with harmony of design, 
and simplicity of detail. [Arranges cord, and throics coat, 
^c, over it, which he takes out of handkerchief, ^c, 
and leaves chair, c. 

Mil. This is too much of a joke, sir — do you think I'm 
a fool ? 

Rat. I do, and a rogue — but if you behave well, I won't 
expose you to the common council — say nothing, and it's 
a chance if they ever find you out. 

Mil. But I'll take it coolly — I'll take it coolly. 

Rat. Do — you'lllast the longer; and you've a good deal 
to go through yet, old gentleman, I can tell yo-u. 

Mil. Will you answer me one question \ 

Rat. With pleasure ; propound. 

Mil. Is this all the furniture you've got 1 And what 
am I to understand by this proceeding 1 

Rat. That's two questions ; however, I'll reply to both 
seriatim. First — This is all the furniture I have in the 
world — thanks to a hard-hearted himks, who robbed me, 



Scene I.] HOW TO FAY THE KENT. 21 

when and how, I'll now explain to your perfect enlighten- 
ment, if not satisfaction. Eighteen months back, I had 
apartments charmingly furnished, all things fitting an ar- 
tist, hoping for fair sitters, neat, clean, and comme il faut. 
Just settled, I had an attack of fever— was ill three months; 
got about at last, exhausted both in constitution and coin. 
My landlord acted towards me then, just as you desire to 
behave to poor Mrs. Barry — he sold my all for an old song, 
and left me pennyless ; I swore revenge in the bitterness 
of my heart against the whole tribe, and have hitherto car- 
ried it out fully — since that hour, I have been the night- 
mare to lodging-house keepers ; the cholera is not more 
shunned when abroad, more dreaded when caught, or got- 
ten rid of with greater thankfulness. Since that day, 
thank heaven, there does not live a villain with whom I've 
located who can accuse me of having paid one rap of rent. 

^nter Mrs. Conscience, c. 

Ah, old lady, how are you % 

Mil. Mercy on me — then I'm to expect no rent 1 

Rat. Precisely ; in which expectation, I'll answer for 
your not being disappointed. 

Mrs. C. Dear me, Mr. Miller, he's only joking — ^he'll 
pay 80/. per year, you know— Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

[Sits in chair, c. 

Mil. Fiend ! look at his furniture. 

Mrs. C. Why, so I have — and want to know where it's 
all to stand — there's a four-horse waggon-load in the yard. 

Mil. I see it all ; the ambassador's goods. 

Mrs. C. Well, but I saw with my own eyes the men un- 
load something out of the waggon, and said it was for Mr. 
Rattler. 

Rat. You're right as a trivet, you did — may your eyes 
never deceive more — my man luckily caught the waggon 
passing by old Fustian's, when my traps were at the door, 
and knowing the value of making a front before the ene- 
my, he gave his friend the driver a pot o' porter to pop 
them on the tail-board with the ambassador's things — a 
fellowship which, I trust, my kit did not in any way dis- 
grace. 

Mil. Mercy on me — what roguery — then all that Mr. 
Fustain said of you — 



22 HOW TO FAY THE RENT. [ACT I. 

Rat. Is nothing more nor less than what you'll say of 
me, when I'm going to leave you, which, if you behave 
well, I will do at the end of six months. 

Mil. Six months ! 

Rat. It wouldn't answer my purpose to move sooner — 
but come, no sour looks — if you don't smile every time 
we meet, till my time expires, curse me if I don't make 
you pay for removing my furaiture to my next lodgings, 
and find me a hackney coach into the bargain. 

3IiL We'll see if the law can't put an end to this swin- 
dling. 

Raf. Yes, in six months — here's our agreement — be- 
sides, I can tell you, the law can't give you a judgment 
in less time, you may take my word for it — I've studied 
the point closely, and know it as well as the attorney-ge- 
neral. 

Mil. Oh, dear — I think you're a rogue. 

Raf. Ditto — T know you're the same. 

Mil. A swindler. 

Rat. You do, eh ] 

Mil. A taker-in of honest men. 

Rat. No, that's you ; you take me in, you know. Any- 
thing else pleasant to say 1 

Mil. You're a man without moral feeling. 

Rat. Hollo ! now you touch my weak point, I must re- 
quest you'll withdraw that last observation as being incor- 
rect and out of order. Recall that last remark. 

Mel. I will not. 

Rat. 1 appeal to the chair. 

Mil. Damn the chair ! 

Mrs. C. Now your punishment begins. 

Mil. Out, croaker. [Tossing over the cJiair and going. 

Rat. Mr. Miller, one moment ; will you give me your 
blessing before you go 1 

Mil. Give you the devil ! 

[Runs against Bettys lolio is entering with candles, c. 

Rat. Mind, if you're going down stairs for him, take a 
candle in your hand. 

Ret. Here's a lot. 

Mil. Out of my way, slut. 

[Kxit in a rage^ c. — Mrs. C. laughing. 



Scene I.] HOW TO FAY THE KENT. 23 

Bet. Here's the candles, and there's such a mob of gents 
coming up stairs, Mr. Rattler. 

Rat. All right ; show them up, Betty, my beauty. 
Bet. Yes, Mr. Rattler. Walk up, gentlemen. 

[Exit, c. 

Enter Swell Billy, Snuffy, Shooter, Blowhard, Star 
THE Glaze, <2;?eZ Pay the Reckoning — they salute Bat- 
tler noisily. 

Rat. Welcome, boys ; this is kind. Bill, your daddle 
— Snuffy, yours — brought your horn, my Shooter 1 

Sho. All right behind. \Takes out a guard's horn. 

Rat. That's the thing ; we'll want music — Blowhard 
sober, I'll swear. 

Bio. So-soish — who's the lady ? — hope she's well. 

[Bows. 

Bil. I say. Rattler, how's your mother, does she know 
you're out 1 [Bows. 

Rat. Bill, go easy. This, gentlemen, is Mrs. Conscience, 
my respectable housekeeper. 

All. Oh, ma'am ; yours devotedly — hope you'll dance — 
honour of your hand 1 

Bio. Might I secure you for the first waltz. [Crosses, c. 

Mrs. C. Dear me, what civil gentlemen ; but, Mr. Rat- 
tler, perhaps I'd best step down stairs till Kitty and all 
the ladies come. 

Rat. Do, my Venus, and shove them all into Mrs. Bar- 
ry's room nearest this, till I open the door. 

Mrs. C. Well, he is a gallant soul — dance, indeed — 
why not ] — la, la ! [Dances and exit, c. 

S7io. Now, my Rattler, what's all this ] Bill, what's 
the row ] What's the order of the day ? 

All. What's the row ? 

Rat. Listen, old pals, fellow scamps, honest minions of 
the moon, who have so often in company waked the grey- 
eyed morning with the echoes of our merry chorus, rising 
from street or square a weary policeman, and the winking 
stars our only audience — I'm now about to bid you fare- 
well, leave off larking, forswear backey and Burton ale, and 
learn to look on the sun without winking, to reflect, to re- 
pent, and reform. 

Bil. Oh, hang reform, I hate it. 



24 HOW TO I-AY Tin: KENT. [ Act I 

Blo. Reform ! you ? — Hookey — you reform ! 

Sho. Put on the drag when you're going down hill, no 
sooner. 

All. No reform — no reform ! 

Rat. Gentlemen, my resolution is taken, and can't b( 
shaken — I wouldn't, however, cut the society like a sneak 
but choose to look you all in the face, and say good bye— 
I've now motives to labour, and stimulant to exertion — J 
have here found the wddow of my only benefactor ; sh( 
needs my help and yours — may I, in the name of our pas 
fellowsliip, claim your aid ] 

All. You may — you may ! 

Blo. Silence ! the gemman's going to reform — you'rt 
too noisy, a deal. 

Rat. ila ! ha! well said, old Blowhard — but, on the 
contrary, you're not noisy enough. Give us one of youi 
short chorusses, with the old Pay the Iveck'ning accom 
paniment — I'll lead the band. [Theij sing a noisy chorus — 
Rattler leading time ivith the swceping-hrush— Shoot- 
er with horn, the rest icith sticks knocking on jloor — 



loud sinking. 



Solo. — Rattler. 



Driak, drink deep, my boys, 

And never mind the score, 
When cash runs low we'll stint our joys, 

^Vhen flush, we'll drink the more. 

Chorus. Drink, drink deep, my boys, &c. 

vSoLo. — Swell Billy. 

A bumper now, fill eveiy glass ; 

Here's health and wealth to you. 
And a husband good to every lass 

That's cf)mely, kind, and true. 

SoLo. — Rattler. 

Then drink, drink deep, my boys. 

And never mind the score, 
When cash runs low we'll stint our joys, 

When flush, we'll drink the more. 

Chorus. Then drink, drink deep, my boys, &c. 

[At end of chorus, a knocking is heard from heneath- 
pause. 



ScEKB I. HOW TO PAY THE RENT. 25 

Bat. Hush ! what's that ? 

Bio. Hear anything knock 1 

Bil. That means, don't like it — no more, no more. 

Rat. I beg your pardon — it must mean encore ! Blow- 
hard, go down, and in your most elegant manner, suggest 
that this apartment is taken by an amateur musical society, 
who meet to give concerts four times a week, but if dis- 
turbed by any noise from below, we'll give in addition a 
ball every other night. [Blowhard exits, c, and returns im- 
mediately.] Now, grand chorus, and accompaniment — 
lead on. [ Chorus again 

Solo. — Rattler, 

What night too long, 

With wine, wit and song. 
To wile dull hours away ; 

We'll make old night, in her own despite, 
As cheery as young day. 
Chorus. With a whack fal lal, &c. 

Solo. — Rattler. 

When the field lark's lay 

First wakes the day, 
We'll homeward merrily track. 

While from field or square we'll wake the air 
With a rousing whack, whack, whack. 
Chorus. With a whack, fal lal, &c. 

Enter Miller, in a rage, c. 

Mil. What's this. Bedlam let loose ] Imps ! fiends ! 
devils ! Gentlemen, I mean, this is too bad ; what does 
this infernal hubbub mean 1 [They teaze him. 

Rat, Oh, Mr. Miller — your most obedient ; a few select 
friends who came to honour my house-warming. Silence ! 
Mr. Miller will favour the company with a song. Solo — 
Mr. Miller ! Silence ! 

All. Solo— Mr. Miller ! 

Mil. Sing, indeed! Mr. Rattler, my coach is at the 
door ! will you let me go in peace to the city, or must I 
send for the — 

Rat. You'll not go till I introduce you, I hope 1 Damn 
it, don't look dumpy, it spoils your expression. Gentle- 
men, don't judge from present appearances — but let me 
assure you, Mr. Miller, my landlord, is as pleasant a fellow 
as ever was proposed to the Colley-olly Club 1 
C 



26 HOW TO PAY THE RENT. JAcT I. 

All. Here's Mr. Miller. 

Sho. Mrs. Miller well, sir, I hope ? 

Bio. And Master Miller, I hope, sir 1 

Rat. Hoho ! sly-boots, you never told me there was a 
little Miller ! 

Mil. That old Jezebel must have blabbed. Whoever 
told you there was a little Miller, eh 1 

Rat. Yourself — I read it in your conscious blushes j 1 
wonder if he possesses all his father's beauty 1 

Mil. [Aside.] I'll frighten them. Look ye here, gentle- 
men — if this noise does not cease instantly, I'll call the 
police. 

All. Oh, dear ! we've seen them come before now. 

Rat. Ah, poor Fustian ! the police often came when I 
lodged with you, but never with your desire — ^you had a 
character to lose, and so had your house — but why the 
devil call the police and injure your lodgings — if my habits 
displease you, I'm ready to leave at a moment's notice — 
only say the word " go !" 

Mil. Go ! by all means — and take your furniture ! 
Here's a deliverance ! Good fellows — I forgive all — go, 
go, only go. 

Rat. On condition that Mrs. Barry's furniture goes un- 
der our escort, with a receipt in full for all, but the half 
quarter due — which it is more than suspected is all she 
owes you. 

Mil. One whole half, and a half-quarter. It's my due 
— my lawful, legal due — the furniture's worth all the mo- 
ney, and more, and I'll keep — 

Rat. You won't give up the widow's furniture— best 
think of it. 

Mil. Never ! never ! 

Enter Betty, with three men having two homSf a street or- 
gan, and hells. 

Bet. Please, Mr. Rattler, here's the music come, and 
the ladies are all ready. 

Mil. This is infamous — I'll have the law — ^murder ! rob- 
bery ! [Bawling, — Betty opens the door connecting with Mrs, 
Barry's rooms, 

Enter Kitty, leading four girls^ Mrs. Conscience, /oU 



ScBMKl.] HOW TO PAY THE RENT. 27 

lowed by Jive little children^ with rattles ^ drums ^ fifes y 
ifc.^ R. — Children surround Miller^ and plague him — then 
they throw him from one to the other until he gets to r. 
corner — then two girls seize him and make him dance. 

Rat. Partners, gentlemen, and flourish trumpets. Mrs. 
Conscience, by your leave, now a galop — a galop. 

[Kitty seizes Miller, others take girls — Rattler with 
Mrs. Conscience. — Music strikes up gallopade, and 
all dance till Miller falls exhausted, c. 

Rat. Open the windows — the room's a good deal too 
warm, and rather too dark — boy, light up candles, and 
stick them against the walls. 

Mil. No, stop — spare my paper. Mercy ! I give in— 
I submit — take all you want — Mrs. Barry's furniture — 
your ovm — all — only go quickly : before I die, let me see 
the house clear. 

Rat. It's too late now — I don't know that I'll go at all. 

Mil. Do, my kind friend — I'll take it as a favour, do. 

[Kneels. 

Ras. There's my hand — I forgive you, and we'll go. 

Mil. One condition I must insist. 

Rat. Conditions to me — no, death or victory — play up 
music 1 

Mil. No, no — only hear me, 'tis for your own good ; 
old Mrs. Jenkins, at the corner, has a capital lodging, go 
live with her — let her have my reference, and I'll give you 
such a character ! 

Rat. That's just what old Fustian said of you. 

Mil. Indeed ! there's a fellow to get the general post 
reception over my head — what other government on earth 
would employ such a treacherous rascal ? [Crosses, l. 

Enter Betty, c. 

Bet. Please, sir, the porter says the waggon's unloaded, 
and wants to know is the things ready to put on 1 

Kit. All ready — only to take down stairs. 

Rat. We'll soon do that. Boys ! do me the favour to 
assist in carrying Mrs. Barry's things down stairs, out of 
her rooms. 

All. Wont we do that 1 Come along, Blowhard. 

Bio. Give me your fist — you're a trump to the last. 

[Exit with the rest into the roorn^ m. 



3B HOW TO PAY THE RENT. [Act I. 

Kit. But how's the dear children to go, and their mother 
not come back 1 

Rat. That's true — they can't walk, or ride on the wag- 
gon — and I haven't a mag left to spare. 

Kit. There's Mr. Miller's carriage at the door — 1 won- 
der if he'd let the dear children ride in it 1 

Rat. Will he % to be sure he will — I know his benevo- 
lent nature ; put them all in, and if the coachman says a 
word, tell him I'll drive them myself — in with them. 

[Exit Kitty. 

Mil. Oh, dear ! oh, dear ! 

Rat. Now, meantime, I'll trouble you for a receipt in 
full for Mrs. Barry. Come, you've always pen and ink, 
you know; I'll be back in a crack. 

\Exity R. — Millei' sits down and 'prepares to write. 

Enter Mrs. Conscience, at hack. 

Mil. 1 wish you'd cracked your neck before you ever 
came here ! come, I'm not ill out of this scrape— she does 
only owe me the half-quarter — Eh 1 eh ! eh I they think 
they've done me, but I'm not so easy — hem ! 

3lrs. C. Look at that — [Presents a tablet tohich she has 
picked up\ — did you ever see that tablet before % Look at 
that name — it's your own. 

Mil. Morgan ! well, what of it % 

Mrs. C. This was Betsy Bustle's — she worked your 
name in it — I tied it round youi baby's waist, when I left 
him in the Foundling box. It dropped from one of their 
hats ; one of their hats covers the head of your son. 

Enter Rattler and the rest, with furniture. 

Rat. Here, take these plates a moment, old boy. 
[Thrusts a pile of plates into Miller* s arms.] One minute — 
and here, hold this till I get my — [Sees tablets.] Hollo ! 
don't pocket my tablets, old lady — they are my whole pa 
ternal inheritance. 

Mrs. C. Is that your name 1 

Rat. My only name, till Mr. Barry added the characte 
ristic addition of Rattler, which makes me Morgan Rat 
tier, at your service. 

Mrs. C. Are you a Ehiblin foundling ? 

Rai. I wEis, some eight-and-twenty years ago 1 [Miller 



ScBNJtI.J HOW TO PAY THE RENT. 



29 



drops plates and sinks into chair.] Hollo! murder' save 
the bits— he s thrown down the dishes ! Take him to the 
pump ! 

Mrs C. Never mind the dishes, but throw yourself into 
your father's arms. ^ 

ila^. My father— what's this? a soap-boiler, a manufac 
turer of dirty muttons, a retailer of ha'penny dips, damme » 
1 d rather never have had a father, old lady— if vou're 
not sure, give me the benefit of a doubt. 

Mrs. C No doubt, no doubt, you're his son— his only 
son, and he's your only father. ^ 

Bat. Well, it can't be helped. Father, take your pro- 

^^m)''^'''' ?:^^«7-^«"t you, pa % [Kneels. 

Mil Keep him back-I'm bewildered— I'll never ac- 
knowledge him— he's a vagabond, he's an immoral cha- 
racter. 

Mrs. a Who's fault is that 1 

Mil. He's an immoral character, he doesn't pay hia 
rent! *^ •' 

Rat. I will for the future, I give you my honour-papa, 

Mrs. C. Look at him ! 

Rat. Ay ! look at me ? 

Kit. How can you hold out ? 

Mil. The voice of nature for the first time speaks with- 

mo ^ 



an me. 



Rat. Better late than never ! what does it say, papa 1 

Mil. It bids me claim my son ! 

Bio. Touching— an't it, Shooter ? 

Sho. All right behind. 

Rat. For the first time, the voice of nature bids me cal) 
you mother — an't you my mother ? 

Mrs. C. No, my child, I'm not. 

Rat. Then, for the first time, the voice of nature's 
wrong ! 

Mrs. a Interesting orphan— your mother's dead— she 
was called Betsy Bustle. 

Rat. Poor Betsy Bustle ! 

Kit. My aunt. 

Rat. My dear cousin. [Embraces her.] Father, I fear 
you must increase your family. 

Mil Well, my son, we'll see about that— this is all so 



30 



HOW TO PAY THE RENT. 



[Act I. 



very odd — a sort of dream — do you know I can't help lik- 
ing you — indeed, I'm not sure I didn't like you all the 
time you was worrying me, for the sake of the widow. 

Enter Bettyt, at back. 

Bet. Please, sir, the dear children's all by the coach, but 
the coachman won't let them in without orders. [Exit, c. 

Mil. I'll go down and speak to him, he shall take 'em 
to their mother, and I'll go with them myself, poor or- 
phans ! 

Rat. Spoke like your son's own father — one moment, 
and I'll go with you. [To the audience.] I'm aware that 
some present may object to the lesson we have given to- 
night, on the mode of raising the rent, forgetful of the mo- 
tives which excuse it ; from that generous and disinteres- 
ted portion of the public that have no rents to receive, 1 
anticipate no disapproval — but should any hard-hearted 
landlord offer opposition, take care that I don't see him ; 
for, if I do, I'll hire his lodgings for six months, as sure as 
my name is Morgan Rattler. 

DISPOSITION OF THE CHARACTERS AT THE FALL OF 
THE CURTAIN. 



Smootkr 


Mrs. C. 


Mil. Rat. 


KlTTT. 


Blowhard. 


«.] 




THE END. 




[L. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 





014 525 186 2. 



LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 



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014 525 186 2 ^ 



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